


Alle Menschen werden Brüder

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Community: makinghugospin, Flashmobs, Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme prompt: Les Amis form a flashmob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alle Menschen werden Brüder

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbJcQYVtZMo

_Wir betreten feuertrunken,  
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!_  
  
"Are you...sure you can go through with this?"  
  
"I've got this," Grantaire belched, not looking up.  
  
"You really don't have to."  
  
"Look, for once in your life, you've come up with a half-decent plan that's  _not_  likely to get us all killed. There's no way I'm missing it."  
  
"This was not my idea!" Enjolras blushed. "I mean, not completely, it just--we kind of..."  
  
"Talked things over and it progressed naturally? Yeah, of course. That's the point, isn't it? You want to have people see it and then all join in, have the idea take off. So, I'm in."  
  
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that."  
  
"Look, how many practical ideas have you had anyway? I mean, seriously. The barricade thing was clever, and all, but it will more likely than not get you killed without inspiring any change at all. This is also a dramatic way to make a scene, and the bonus is, you get to survive it long enough to try something else after that."  
  
"That's the plan, yes."  
  
"Excellent. Now, get me another glass of wine."  
  
 _Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele  
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!_  
  
"I still don't think this is a good idea," Bossuet sighed. "Something will go wrong."  
  
"Come on," said Musichetta, "it'll be great."  
  
"Joly talked you into it too, huh?"  
  
"Nobody talked me  _into_  anything, I signed up for it myself. You'll want a good-sized chorus. People to hold practices out of sight, that sort of thing."  
  
"Not too many practices, it'll only go wrong, we'll get overconfident. It should be done on the spur of the moment."  
  
"More practices," Joly interrupted, "so we can get all the stupid mistakes out of the way."  
  
Bossuet glared. "And where, exactly, were you planning on having these?"  
  
"I think over here. No, listen, you can go camp out at Courfeyrac's if you want."  
  
"Marius is at Courfeyrac's."  
  
"Marius?" Musichetta asked. "He's the one daydreaming about his new crush, he'll never notice you interrupting."  
  
"This doesn't seem like it could go wrong at all."  
  
"I should ask her, I bet she'd be a brilliant soprano..."  
  
 _Alle Guten, alle Bösen  
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur._  
  
"It'll be great," said Jehan. "I think this is definitely something people can get into. No matter who they are, everyone loves music."  
  
"No matter who they are?" Bahorel glared.  
  
"Yeah, exactly. I'm almost wondering if we shouldn't just skip the chorus and do something instrumentally, nothing to distract people with the vocals."  
  
"And if the national guard shows up?"  
  
"Oh they won't make a scene--they'll be as confused as everyone else. Not knowing who started it, who's just standing by."  
  
"They will if some people are playing instruments and some aren't.  _Particularly_  if nobody's singing."  
  
"Well, we'll have to invite them in. Let them play percussion or something. I suppose we oughtn't share the woodwinds, Joly would say that's not sanitary."  
  
"Maybe we should just give them one drumstick. Best-case scenario, they play the drums; worst-case, they wave it around madly...and pretend they're the conductor."

_Sphären rollt sie in den Räumen,  
Die des Sehers Rohr nicht kennt._  
  
"Okay, yeah, so--we're not even going to sing this much, right, we should just cut it off here, is fine."  
  
"No, but I want to learn this. There's dots above the as?"  
  
"Well, yes, but--"  
  
"And is that a letter B, or what?"  
  
Combeferre sighed. "I don't even know how German does it. It's strange."  
  
"The Polish carons were strange," Feuilly protested, "and I got them down okay!"  
  
Combeferre rolled his eyes. "Yes. All right. Maybe back to the drawing board."  
  
"Look, it was either this or català, and given how we're supposed to be working for some universalist ideals rather than petty regionalism, I'd say we've got something good going here."  
  
"Where are our good old cedillas when you need them? No, don't answer, that was a rhetorical question. Okay, if you're serious about this, let's get to work."  
  
 _Droben überm Sternzelt  
Wird ein großer Gott belohnen._  
  
Javert paced out the plaza. It was another commonplace day. The gamins were sprinting across the streets, of course, but that couldn't be helped. There were the usual crowd--doddering old men leaning on their daughters' arms, couples glimpsing around to harass passing tourists, who shuffled by with their heads down, even a band of raucous students. Probably looking for the nearest pub, no doubt.  
  
At least they had the good sense to tone down their merrymaking as they drove near, slowly scattering around perpendicular streets. Well, they could all make up at the opposite corner and proceed to the pub together. Good riddance.  
  
Darkness fell on the square, and he paced out his regular patrol, his feet ready to keep a steady time. Left, then right, but always forward, monitoring the drill.  
  
 _Unser Schuldbuch sei vernichtet!_  
 _Ausgesöhnt die ganze Welt!_  
  
"We're going to want to dress inconspicuously," said Courfeyrac, "so as not to draw people's attention beforehand."  
  
"I know," said Enjolras.  
  
"Not carrying around anything too out-of-place."  
  
"Except the instruments?"  
  
"Well, yeah, point, we won't have room for too much else anyway. Okay, and we might have to hide in a bank."  
  
"Until it's time to start."  
  
"Right. You're okay with that?"  
  
"Sure. It's the most convenient location, after all."  
  
"You're not--upset about having to deal with the mercantilism or anything too capitalist like that?"  
  
"We'll be carrying around our instruments, I hardly think we'll be appearing to support the aristocratic class."  
  
"Okay. Just, as long as we're committed to this."

_Laßt den Schaum zum Himmel spritzen:  
Dieses Glas dem guten Geist._  
  
"Grantaire, are you ready?"  
  
"I was  _born_  ready," Grantaire slurred, not altogether convincingly. "Have a drink?"  
  
"No, thank you," said Enjolras.  
  
"You'll sing better on a full stomach, tomorrow. Eases the nerves."  
  
"This is Enjolras we're talking about," Courfeyrac pointed out.  
  
"C'mon, now," Grantaire burped, "it's about the, eek, eek, er...equality and brotherhood and all that talk, innit. If we're equals, you get a glass too."  
  
"Maybe it means that you should take after me," Enjolras suggested, "and  _stop_  drinking for a change."  
  
"Huh," said Grantaire, deliberating on this for a moment but then deciding on just having a glass of water--"it was cheaper anyway."  
  
Enjolras filled up a glass in kind. "To harmony!"  
  
Grantaire clinked in for the toast. "I'll drink to that."  
  
 _Männerstolz vor Königsthronen, --  
Brüder, gält' es Gut und Blut--_  
  
"Gavroche, what are you doing?"  
  
"Climbing," Gavroche shrugged, waving his hand off the pole.  
  
"Don't  _salute_  when you're halfway up that thing!" Eponine snapped.  
  
Gavroche raised his eyebrows. "What, think I can't do it? I'd like to see you try."  
  
In response, she hustled across the square before accelerating up across the opposite post in double time.  
  
Grantaire blinked. "Where'd you learn that?" he called.  
  
"Around," she shrugged, "there're plenty of places to sneak into. That aren't so smooth and friendly as this little plaza. But what are you doing,  _here_?"  
  
"Climb--" he began again, then grunted and fell silent as he hoisted his way up, laboriously. "Oh, look, it seems I've already climbed. Well, I'm just enjoying the view."  
  
"Of  _what_?"  
  
"Nothing in particular," he said, waving his hand wide. Eponine glared at his one-handed grip in veiled envy, then made a point of swinging her shoulders as she shrugged her disdain. "Who knows?" he chirped again, "maybe there'll be something new tomorrow."  
  
 _Hoffnung auf den Sterbebetten,  
Gnade auf dem Hochgericht!_  
  
"How strange!" Cosette smiled. "To think I have seen this city so many times, and yet, it is all so new while I am walking with him! Oh, Papa, I hope you are not upset."  
  
"Not at all!" said Valjean. "Only, it is a surprise to see you, so excited to take in the familiar sights."  
  
"He said he would meet me this evening, at six. Oh, do come along, I am sure he would so like to meet you?"  
  
"Nonsense. Surely you must have better things to do with your time than entertain an old man."  
  
"Oh, but you ought to get out and walk around as well! You must be so lonely, here. Perhaps you too can meet a new friend?"  
  
Valjean snorted, but then considered the possibility of watching this Marius from afar. There would be no need to keep a close distance, but he could look out for Cosette, make sure nothing went wrong. "Perhaps some time in the fresh air would do me some good. But I will not embarrass you in front of his friends."  
  
"Oh, I have yet to meet his friends. He says they are a bit...strange."  
  
"Well," Valjean shrugged, "we all have our quirks. Come along, then."  
  
People walked in and out of the plaza, and then, quietly, a single student approached, his hat inverted to collect any passing sous. A young child paused, as if uncertain whether the brotherhood of the proletariat would be strengthened or undermined by supporting this lone string player.  
  
Then, they began to hear the people's song.  
  
 _Freundschaft!_  
 _Freude!_  
 _Freiheit!_


End file.
